Because of a Visit
by greenconverses
Summary: A retelling, of sorts, of the journey through the tunnel and into the Shrieking Shack, in which Harry learns that visiting Hagrid while a massmurderer is on the loose is generally a bad idea.


**Author's Notes: **I wrote this one-shot for the Alfonso Cuaron Fangirl & Fanboy Extravaganza at fictionalley.org. The challenge was to write a fic incorporating an image/concept from the Prisoner of Azkaban movie, and I wrote about the image from PoA that gave me chills: paw prints in the dust. Hope you enjoy it!

** Because of a Visit**

First it had been Norbert.

Then it had been those Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest.

Now, it was all of this. Why did _everything_ bad usually happen after or during or _because_ of a visit to Hagrid's?

When Harry had decided to go down to Hagrid's tonight with Ron and Hermione, he hadn't thought their journey back up to the castle would consist of chasing a mad rat through the grass, getting mowed over by a very bearish looking dog, being able to do nothing to prevent Ron from getting dragged down a hole by said dog, getting whipped around by Whomping Willow for the second (and hopefully _last_) time of his life, and ending up down in a dark, dank tunnel with Hermione lying on his back.

But then again, he was Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Why _shouldn't _all those things happen on a typical trip to Hagrid's?

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, getting off of his back and standing up. She looked around the tunnel and then back at him.

Harry pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He was sore all over and felt as though he just finished a very rough game of Quidditch…Though, usually, one does _not_ get walloped in the stomach by a mad tree while playing Quidditch.

He looked over at Hermione to see if she was all right. He really couldn't see anything through the darkness, but it seemed as though she hadn't broken anything and that she still had all of her limbs.

"…W-Where does this lead to?" she whispered after seeing Harry looking at her.

"I have a hunch…and I hope I'm not right," Harry replied as he began walking toward the opposite end of the tunnel. He pulled out his wand and motioned Hermione to follow him. "C'mon."

They moved as fast as they could, occasionally tripping on some loose rock or hitting their heads on the low ceiling. The tunnel seemed to go on and on; it felt almost as long as the passage into Honeydukes…and all Harry could think about was Ron and whether the dog had done something really horrible to him or eaten him …

Sooner than he would've expected, the tunnel began to rise upward, and it twisted around. Harry could see a small patch of dim light through a small opening in the tunnel, and he edged forward. He looked at Hermione, and she nodded nervously.

Harry stepped forward, and pulled himself out of the opening of the tunnel. Once he had moved out of the way, Hermione did the same.

They were in a house. An unused and dirty house from the look of the room they were in. It was very disordered and dusty. Furniture was lying about, broken to bits; stains were on the floor and on the fading wallpaper; and the windows were boarded up, letting only a small amount of light through.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, looking very frightened. "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

"I thought so," Harry replied grimly, and he began creeping toward the open door at the opposite end of the room.

Suddenly, the floor above creaked and dust rained down on them. Harry stopped in the middle of the room, and Hermione ran into him. Both of them looked at the ceiling, and Hermione gripped his arm painfully tight.

"Ron!" she squeaked as a loud human moan of pain floated down from the second floor. "Harry, he's hurt - "

"C'mon!" Harry said, urgently pulling her toward out of the room and into a hall. There they were greeted with the sight of a steep, crumbling staircase. Another one of Ron's moans floated down to them. Without hesitation, they ran up the creaky staircase, and burst into the room at the top of the stairs.

Ron was in the back corner of the room, near a boarded-up window. He was sitting on a broken mattress, clutching a frantic Scabbers close to his chest.

"_Ron!_" Harry cried as he and Hermione dashed across to him. "You - You all right?"

Ron looked pale and shaken, and his leg was bleeding, but thankfully he seemed none too worse for the wear. Harry had been sure that the dog had –

Wait a minute…

Harry glanced quickly around the room. The dog was nowhere in sight.

"Ron…_where's the dog?_"

" – 'Snot a dog, Harry…_He's_ the dog - " Ron moaned, pointing a shaking finger at something over Harry's shoulder. "_He's an Animagus!_"

Slowly, Harry turned.

There was a thick layer of dust on the floor like in the first room and the hallway. His and Hermione's footprints were visible in the dust, and a wide shiny stripe had been made when Ron had been dragged over to the mattress.

And then, Harry noticed the paw prints.

His eyes followed them across the room, taking in their gigantic size one by one, remembering how those very same paws had bowled him over just minutes ago outside the Whomping Willow -

Abruptly, the trail of paw prints ended behind a broken and battered door…

…and in front of a large – very _human_ – pair of boots.

Then, realization hit Harry.

Hard.

The door swung back slowly, it's hinges creaking dramatically.

And there, standing behind it, in a mud stained, grungy prison uniform, a smirk upon his sunken face, and a wild gleam in his eyes was Sirius Black.

As Black stepped forward, Harry was beginning to wish that he hadn't gone down to Hagrid's tonight.

FIN


End file.
